Status: Fin.

Immortalized

Before

I once loved a girl named Haley Winfar.

She was a pallid, sickly creature. Her small and delicate frame made me scared that if I embraced her too tightly or if she tripped over a rock she would break all of her bones. She had whispy white hair that I could never seem to stop running my fingers through; she taught me to braid, so I would always braid black eyed Susan and clovers throughout that mess. Her skin was almost see-through, stretched across her well defined cheekbones. Sad grey eyes always stared back at me when I asked Haley how she was feeling everyday.

That girl never said much, but when she did it was almost incomprehensible. She had a mental illness that couldn't be accounted for in those days (now I know that it was a rare and extreme form of brain cancer) and becuase of it, she only had one friend: me. Everyone else was scared off by her odd behavior and speech impediment. She didn't even go to school because of how much she was taunted and stared at. But despite her inability, she was lovely and full of thoughts. I was one of the few who took the time to recognize it, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in this world.

One of the few joys in her life was when the sun was retiring for the day. My darling Haley was always waiting for me at her front door; she would sit on the top step, a checkered red blanket wrapped around her shoulders (no matter how warm it was outside) and a wicker picnic basket full of papers and colored pencils in her hand. They were her prized possessions.

I would take her little hand in my own larger one, and I would lead her into the meadow between our houses. The soft shin-high grass made her smile as she paced next to me on our way towards the middle of the field. When we reached our spot, Haley would peel the blanket from her small shoulders and lay it down in the rivet our bodies had created from years of this ritual.

The picnic basket would produce the supplies we needed to draw until the sun sank. Haley wrote to me in neat cursive handwriting that I had taught her. She asked me questions about inventions, books, artists, and the natural world. I would answer them to the best of my knowledge, although sometimes she didn't seem satisfied. Her thin lips would curve into a frown if she didn't understand, or she might smirk if something was fascinating and she wanted to hear more.

This was usually our short intermission between the long, dull days and the actual show we enjoyed.

Haley and I would try to see who could point out the first star of the night. I usually pretended not to see it, just so I could feel her poke me in the arm, point to it and giggle. I would then sigh and laugh, and begin the lesson on constellations and heavenly bodies.

Oh, it was lovely. The country sky is beyond anything imaginable, especially in the summer. On clear nights, when the moon is thin, a million stars scatter themselves abroad, along with the Milky Way flowing in their midst.

Haley would listen quietly as I pointed out the various stars and the patterns they formed: The Big and Little Dipper, Polaris, Cassiopea, Orion, Castor and Pollux, Sirius and Procyon, Capella, and many more that I can no longer name. She would then trace them with her own imaginary line. I know that she memorized them - treasured them - because she drew me every constellation that I taught her, along with other stars that even I didn't pay much mind to. I believe that she had the whole visible universe carved into her mind.

I would then go on to talk about the moon, how men had walked on it (the two of us were too young to realize or remember it when it happened back in 1969), the way it reflected the sun's light, and how I someday hoped that we could inhabit it, like in the science-fiction comics I had read. The other planets were listed, along with the sun.

Over all, Haley's favorite thing to hear about was her comet - or, at least, she thought that it was hers. She firmly believed that I had named Halley's Comet after her. And, if I'm honest, I quite loved that idea.

I would recall all of the dates it had been seen: starting with the first known occurrence in 240 BC, up until the last date of 1910. I would tell her the facts I knew about it, and then describe it as I had read in books. Haley listened attentively with starry eyes. She longed for the day when she could see her comet again - it wasn't too far off. I, on the other hand, loathed it, because I - everyone - was unsure as to whether she would make it that long.

After hours of gazing up at the heavens, miss Winfar would be sound asleep next to me. Her chest rose and fell, rose and fell in a peaceful pattern. I would carefully gather her in my arms and kiss her forehead. She knew it - Haley was always awake at that point because she would wrap an arm around my neck and smile. Her father waited at the front door every night to receive the little girl.

"Thank you, Daniel," he would say with a depressed tone.

All alone, I spent a few minutes gathering up the drawings and pencils and blanket that would be on Haley's doorstep the next morning.
♠ ♠ ♠
1/2

For Julia - onlyme_1998

I had this prewritten, but then it was deleted. I'm glad now, because I've put much more effort into this^ version.